Secrets and Lies
by MayTheAngelsProtectYou
Summary: As Kensi and Deeks' relationship begins to crumble, Kensi is sent on a dangerous new assignment. As if winning the heart of a brutal arms dealer isn't enough, now she has to worry about her future at NCIS as well.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, NCIS:LA fans and readers! So, I'm sick today and staying home from school and it's pouring rain, but at least I've got time to work on my fanfictions. Haha. Please enjoy!**

She never should have agreed to take the assignment. Any other pretty, Russian-speaking female agent could have been sent in her place. And Lord knew there were a lot of _them _around. That stunning blonde girl, Agent Gina Pachevski, fluent in Russian. Or that one newbie who was _actually Russian _and not bad looking either. But Kensi Blye had been, at the time she had agreed to the assignment, a desperate woman. Desperate, as so many become, for escape. Instead of escaping, however, she had been only forced to confront the very life she had attempted to flee.

A single dark silhouette against the pearly sky, Kensi bent down and gently touched the gravestone. She had laid a bunch of roses on the soft grass that tangled beneath the tombstone.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Tuesday, October 6, NCIS Los Angeles Field Office, Los Angeles, CA

The sound of Eric Beal's taxi-summoning whistle had long ago called the other agents up the high-tech Special Ops room, but Kensi was seated before Hetty Lange's cluttered mahogany desk.

"Miss Blye, your work in the past few months has been exceptional. A half dozen cases closed, an illegal narcotics operation shut down…if I could, you would be given a promotion."

Kensi heard the 'but' hovering in the air, so she waited. Sure enough, Hetty continued,

"However, I'm afraid that a promotion is not an option right now. The only thing I give you is an assignment."

Kensi perked up at once, straightening in the ladder-backed chair.

"An undercover assignment?"

The older woman surveyed her young agent with a proud gleam in her eyes, not altogether different from the expression that mother might adopt while looking at a favorite daughter. Kensi, one of the few female certified undercover agents, had always been one of Hetty's 'projects', meaning that the older agent kept a watchful eye on her younger charge.

"But of course, Agent Blye. Tea?" Hetty produced a steaming kettle from seemingly nowhere and poured herself a cup.

"Uh, sure. Thanks." Kensi accepted a dainty porcelain teacup of hot amber liquid. "So what does this…assignment…entail?"

Hetty pressed a few keys on her computer and the plasma mounted on her office wall zapped to life. A grainy driver's license photograph and a few grainy surveillance snapshots of a handsome, dark-haired man appeared there.

"Viktor Lekova, thirty-seven years old. Born to Russian immigrant parents in New York City, currently the head of one of the United State's largest illegal arms rings. He's been smuggling AK-47s across the Mexican border for several years."

Kensi raised her eyebrows, nodded.

"And why is NCIS involved?"

"We were alerted to Lekova's activities in 2003, when he was a major suspect in a Camp Pendleton shooting. He doesn't have a criminal record, he's practically invisible if you don't know where to look. Agent Callen asked around with his contacts and uncovered a Russian arms dealing ring. A few weeks ago, a small-time drug dealer had a little spiff with Lekova, snitched on him to us. We're all ready to go into operation…if you accept the assignment, of course. If not, we could always find someone else…"

"No!" Kensi blurted at once. "Of course I'll do it!"

Hetty gave an almost smirking smile. She had known, even before she asked, that Kensi would accept her offer.

"So," the undercover agent began eagerly, "what's my cover?"

"An _escort_?" Kensi's voice rose an octave in disbelief. "Really, Hetty?"

Hetty calmly surveyed the younger agent, hands folded.

"Lekova has shown a taste for exotic women in the past," Hetty informed her.

_Yeah, what else is new? _Kensi wondered. Rich, handsome men like Lekova always aimed high in the female department, they never settled for the 'girl next door' when they could just as easily have the Brazilian supermodel from Beverly Hills.

"I have a teleconference with the director of the FBI in a few minutes," Hetty began, handing Kensi a thick manila folder. "But take this and read it carefully. Report here at 0600 for your first day."

Kensi nodded and was about to leave when a last nagging thought made her pause in the doorway.

"Hetty?"

Hetty glanced up, one hand on the telephone.

"Yes?"

"Why me? There are a lot of other agents who fit the profile…"

Hetty gave one of her knowing, over-the-glasses stares.

"I thought you could use a break, Agent Blye. Of course, I could always give _another agent _the assignment…"

Kensi pressed her lips together in a thin smile as their eyes met.

"No, no. I was just…wondering, that's all."

Hetty nodded once, her eyes returning to expressionless orbs, and Kensi left.

It had started during the Henders case, and escalated from there. Marie Henders, wife of a Naval Captain, had been shot dead in an apparent robbery gone wrong. They had already nabbed one suspect, a known drug using neighbor who had despised Susan Henders from the moment she reported him for smoking marijuana on the street corner. Kensi believed that they could easily convict him, while Deeks pushed that there wasn't enough evidence to go to trial.

"I know what it's like to loose a parent," Kensi had snapped. Deeks didn't know. Her partner might have endured a dysfunctional childhood, but he hadn't suffered the death of a parent. Things like that, they changed you. Warped you, twisted you around inside. From there the fighting had escalated until they were going full at it in an alleyway behind San Vicente Food Mart, totally unprofessional and childish.

"You have NO IDEA!" Kensi had shouted at him, her face burning hot with rage. "Your life has been _perfect_! You don't know what it's like!"

Deeks had just stared at her with cold eyes, his mouth a flat line.

"You know what, Kensi? You used to be a good agent. Now I'm not so sure. You're selfish, Kensi. You're not thinking about the victim here, you're thinking about yourself."

She had spluttered, outraged, knowing it was true but too angry to admit that Deeks was right.

"You used to be a good agent," he repeated. "Now I don't know if _anyone_ would want you as a partner."

Even now, almost a month later, the words stung. Kensi had considered Deeks more than just a partner-he had been a close friend. Maybe verging on something more. But since that investigation, their relationship had been irreparably damaged. The trust they had once shared was shattered, and no amount of coaxing from Hetty or gentle prodding from Sam or harsh comments from Callen could force them to function as the smooth team they'd once been.

_At least I'm leaving him behind_, Kensi thought as she folded a basketful of laundry in her apartment later that evening. Hetty had assured her that any 'costumes' she had to wear would be provided, something that put Kensi a little on edge. When she was a newbie, she'd been forced to wear revealing dresses, low-cut tops and even bikinis on assignments to draw attention towards her own body and away from other undercover agents. Sam and Callen had always made sure that she felt like part of the team, like she was one of the boys. Now she was headed into a potentially dangerous situation with no other teammates. This time, Callen and Sam wouldn't be there to get her back. On the upside…it meant a few days without Deeks. Maybe longer.

Almost without thinking, Kensi glanced at her wall calendar. October 8th was fast approaching, a date that she avoided recognizing at all costs. It wasn't circled in red or highlighted, but Kensi had never forgotten it. Every year, it approached like a train's headlight in a dark tunnel, unavoidable, inescapable.

Sitting there alone in her dim apartment, Kensi thought that maybe her sour relationship with Deeks wasn't the only thing that she was trying to escape from.

**So I hope you all liked this chapter, I promise that there will be more to come. Leave me nice reviews, my lovelies…**


	2. Chapter 2

"Spin for me, Agent Blye."

Marcy Hemming, a middle-age seamstress for the undercover operations department, regarded her latest project with a critical eye. Kensi stood before the full-length mirror in the department's basement office, a sleek red dress hanging around her. It was closely fitted to her slender form, a bright scarlet that brought out her dark complexion and eyes.

She obeyed Marcy's command, twirling once so that the seamstress could admire the outfit. The silky garment felt out of place, unfamiliar. Kensi was used to wearing her usual uniformed of plaid shirts, jeans, sneakers or boots. Even when she went out-which wasn't often-she opted for practical skirts and flat shoes. She liked outfits that she could _move _in. Forget chasing down a suspect in these 3 inch spiked heels, she could barely _walk_.

"You look lovely, Miss Blye."

Kensi wheeled around, nearly tripping over herself, to see Hetty standing behind her.

"Come up to the garage and I'll have them loan you an agency car for the assignment. Something flashy and fast, I should think…"

Fifteen minutes later, Kensi tiptoed through the bullpen, awkward in her revealing outfit. Someone wolf-whistled as she passed and Kensi felt her cheeks heat in a blush.

"Nice outfit," Sam smirked. Kensi pulled a quick face at him before following out the garage. She was a little nervous about this assignment, one of her first in several months. Not to mention the fact that she wouldn't be armed or wired in order to avoid being made. The thought of heading into a potentially dangerous situation without a gun or any outside communication except a burn phone made her a tad worried.

Still, it was hard to stay on edge when Hetty handed her the keys to a red sports car and a slip of paper with a Bel Air address printed on it.

"Good luck, Agent Blye," said Hetty. Sam clapped a hand on her back and reassured her that if she got into a scrape they would come get her. Callen squeezed her hand, a silent message passing between them. Deeks, however, simply stood in the background, a bitter smile on his face as she watched her drive away.

Kensi had never been so grateful to have someone fade in her rearview mirror.

The address that Hetty had given her took Kensi to a pair of high wrought-iron gates and a long curving driveway flanked by two tall pillars. She punched the intercom call button and a clipped British accent answered. A woman. Kensi reminded herself that a millionaire arms dealer probably wouldn't be answering his own doorbell.

"Lekova residence, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm here to speak to Mr. Lekova. Tell him that Top Tier Escorts sent me," Kensi said, faking a slightly stupid sounding voice. She figured that someone whose career involved selling herself for large tips didn't involve the highest education.

"Uh huh." The woman sounded bored and unimpressed. "Well, Mr. Lekova isn't taking visitors right now."

Kensi's heart rate picked up. Thousands of dollars were being invested in this mission. She couldn't be turned away before she even glimpsed the inside of Lekova's gilded throne room.

"Please, just let me inside. Mr. Lekova gets _very mad _when his…_orders_…get left out in the cold."

A small sigh of defeat, and the clipped accent replied,

"I've worked for Mr. Lekova for three years now. I should know better than anyone."

And the gates slid open to reveal a long curving drive that wound up the hillside to an enormous Spanish-style mansion. Kensi took in a breath as she nose the car through the winged gates and up the road. Several expensive antique cars, all polished like apples, sat in the driveway before the house. Kensi got the distinct impression that they were there for show only. She also noted the top-notch security system, counting at least 30 'hidden' cameras. She was sure there were more. One thing was certain-no one was getting in here without someone knowing.

Sure enough, as Kensi parked the sportscar, a man in a crisp business suit approached her with his hand held out. A telltale bulge at his hip said that he was probably an armed guard.

"Miss, please step out of the car and place your hands on the hood," he barked from a few yards out. _Thank God I'm not wearing a wire, _Kensi thought as she assumed the proper pose. As if on cue, two men with mirrors on long poles appeared and began sweeping the car, presumably for explosives or booby traps.

"I swear I didn't do anything, Officer," Kensi joked, trying to keep a flirtatious smile on her face as the suited man began frisking her. She tensed at the his rough hands whisking over her skin. It wasn't like she hadn't been frisked before, at the Academy, at FLETC, at Undercover School…but this felt different. This time, it wasn't a lesson or a joke. She felt almost violated, but told herself to stop acting like a pansy. Until she was being raped or tortured, she would keep her head screwed on straight. She wouldn't worry.

"Car's all clear, boss," one of the bomb sweepers announced, retracting his mirror. The guard released Kensi, who gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile.

"Have a nice day, sir."

No one returned the sentiment, so she mounted the high steps and stood before the front door. Beads of sweat gathered on her palms as she rang the doorbell, praying that it wasn't actually Lekova who answered. She needed time to rehearse silently in her head, running lines for a play with no script.

The door swung open.

**Sorry for the short chapter, but I have a lot of homework and I just wanted this out there.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Your kind words brighten my day so much. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS:LA, though a girl can certainly dream…**

"Who are you?" The girl standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the knob, was stunning. Dark hair, trimmed short into a chin-length bob, luminescent eyes with thick lashes that looked huge in a heart-shaped face. Her accent was clipped and British. She obviously wasn't one to toss around casual greetings; she refused to let Kensi past until she stated the reason for visiting.

"Kenna James." The false name rolled off her tongue nicely and Kensi added a wide smile. "I'm from Top Tier…"

The woman gave her a cold smile, as if she were used to these beautiful, desperate girls arriving on the doorstep.

"Ah," she said, voice chilly. "The…_escort _company."

Kensi flashed her a thousand-watt smile, trying to look like the ditzy call-girl she was portraying.

"Hard to find other work these days."

"I'm sure," the woman replied, her teeth bared in what could barely pass as a smile. The gesture didn't quite reach her eyes. The door opened a few more inches, and Kensi stepped into the mansion. The entrance hall was enormous, an arched ceiling that reached to cathedral heights soaring high above her head. Her heels clicked on the gleaming marble floor, which Kensi noted was inlaid with elaborate tile designs.

"Mr. Lekova is out by the pool," Kensi's greeting party announced, and then clopped away on the impossibly high heels. The undercover agent stood for a moment in the vast, silent mansion. So many places for a bug: Tiffany lamps and Ming vases and polished oak and plush chairs crowded the enormous living room to the left and lined the hall to the right. Straight ahead was a pair of sliding glass doors, crystal clear panes lending visitors a stunning vista that stretched from Dockweiler to downtown.

Kensi opened the doors, noting that a soft _ping_ alerted the guardhouse that a door had been opened. She got the district impression that her every move was being recorded. She was probably right.

Vladmir Lekova lounged in a sun chair, shaded by a large umbrella, beside a glittering aquamarine pool. Emerald grass stretched like an infinity pool to the edge of the property, which seemed to cut away directly to the skyline.

He saw Kensi before she saw him, and put aside the Los Angeles times copy that he had been reading. For the first time, she saw his flesh-and-blood face. He was far handsomer than the blurry passport photograph suggested, a chiseled jawline shadowed by a light beard. Dark, penetrating eyes stared into hers from across the lapping pool. He beckoned with two fingers and Kensi obeyed, like the foolish, trusting girl she was supposed to be.

"Come closer," he commanded. Lekova's voice was strongly accented, Russian, Kensi knew. "I want to see your face."

She stood directly before him, and he tilted her chin upwards. She put on her best smile, prayed it was convincing.

"Very beautiful," he commented, allowing her chin to drop. "It seems they've sent me a real gem this time."

She let out a girlish giggle, trying to mimic some kind of _pride _that this monstrous man found her attractive.

"The agency knows what I like. Four years, you would think they had learned. I say that I want the best from them, the most beautiful girls. But no, they send me cheap hookers. The best," Lekova quirked an eyebrow suggestively, "and only the best for Vladmir. He likes his girls young and…fresh."

Internally cringing, Kensi kept the vacant smile plastered on her face.

"So how do you like the house?" Lekova asked, changing tact. Kensi twirled, the red silk brushing against her thighs. She admired the view, the clear span of city. You could see all the way to the downtown skyscrapers that seemed to spear the smoggy sky. Kensi knew it like the back of her hand, the tumble of buildings that clustered around Flower and Los Angeles and Spring Streets. Somewhere there, she knew, was the Glass Castle. Parker Center, the hulking police administration building, headquarters of the LAPD. The very thought of that place, of those detectives…of _that one detective_…

_Stop it, Kensi. There are hundred of detectives in LA, what makes _him_ so freaking special? Nothing. He's nothing to you now. _

"Great view," she said simply. "Must've cost a fortune."

Lekova smirked, slid his phone into a pocket.

"Trust me, princess, when you make as much as I do, this is just the icing on the cake."

Pretending to not be completely revolted, Kensi forced a smile onto her face, praying that she looked as charming and perfect as possible. Standing there in her red silk dress, teetering on the impossibly high heels, that beautifully empty smile plastered to her face, Kensi realized that she had spent most of her life doing the exact same thing. Hiding behind guns and badges and flippant smirks while her heart was slowly breaking. While the people she loved broke away and got hurt and left her. Suddenly, she felt very ill.

Kensi was saved from her own morbid thoughts by the arrival of an enormously fat man in a business suit. He wore a jaunty bowler hat and carried a cigar clenched between his puffy lips.

"Time to go," Lekova announced, ushering her towards the door. "Shall I call for Susan?"

"I can find my own way out," Kensi replied, and was about to sashay away when the arms dealer snagged her arm.

"I never caught your name, princess?"

"Kenna," she said. "But _princess _works too."

**Sorry that I've taken so long to update, guys. I promise that I'll try to be faster in the future. Please review!**


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